The Gift
by o-9
Summary: Izzy never got into conflicts. She was always the one who resolved them, and came out for the better, even if she wasn't originally involved in them. So, what happens when she is thrown into an entirely new world, that seems to be an epic battle between "light" and "dark"? ischyrós oudéteros tha (strong neutral will) Also note that her name is pronounced the same as "Ithica".
1. The Letter

There are few situations that make one cunning. They are as follows: survival in an abusive household, family traditions and morals passed down, mistrust of other people, and finally, the ambition to be the most powerful person in a country.

Anyone that met Ms. Isytha-Edette Wilson would not of course, put her in any of these categories. Her parents, whom everyone knew since both were in the PTA and Board of School Governors since Izzy could talk, were quite the opposite of the abusive controlling parents that made up the rest of the seats. ("Oh, Izzy, we just find it so _fascinating_!") And with that, their family morals were on display for the whole world (well, town) to see.

Izzy made friends fast, and her loyalty to them made them in turn be just as loyal back. She put her faith into people and if you so much as thought as letting down those big brown eyes, you would instantly hate yourself.

But, ambition. That was something that Izzy seemed to lack. Sure, she was smart, and worked hard at her school work, but she was never interested in it. She got straight A's, yet would sit and gossip with her friends. She didn't want to seem to do anything with her life at all.

By the end of her Year 5, she was top of her class and also had the entire year at her feet. However, she never took notice of how when she walked into school everyone quieted to watch her. She simply continued on with whatever conversation she was having and smiled at her close friends as she passed them by. Walking through the school to her class, a small following would always form, hushed and watching her. Always mesmerized by the way her ponytailed blonde hair went back and forth and back and forth.

At the end of the summer holiday, when about to start Year 6, there was a hush that fell over the entire school but for an entirely different reason. It was three minutes before class would start on the first day of school and Izzy was not there. Her friends (who hadn't heard from her since the end of July) were suddenly hounded, being questioned left and right about where she was and why she wasn't there. Had she moved? Surely not, this was a small town in northern England after all, and everyone knew everyone. If she had moved it would have made it into the papers. Was she sick? The whole school (but especially the 11 year old sixth years) was in a silent buzz all day about it. It could even be said that in the teacher's lounge it was being discussed.

* * *

Izzy woke up to the morning sun spilling through her windows, hitting her right in the face. It was the last day of July and that meant school was starting soon. She groaned and got up, knowing her mom wanted to go school shopping today to get her new clothes and notebooks. She sleepily made her way to the bathroom, easily slipping under the warm spray.

Meanwhile downstairs, the post was pushed through the mail slot. Mrs. Wilson picked it up, rifling through it before seeing a thick yellowed paper with fancy curved lettering on it addressed to her daughter. Assuming it was her new school list ("I thought we already received that.") she left it on the kitchen table for her daughter to come down the stairs. Mrs. Wilson then continued with the pancakes she had been making. When she had woken up that morning the ingredients (as if by magic, but she knew it was just Mr. Wilson setting it out before he left; he was so thoughtful) for pancakes had been sitting out on the counter.

Izzy came down soon after the first batch of pancakes were done, and she grabbed a large stack before Mrs. Wilson was about to start on another one. Izzy frowned.

"Mum, what did we say about making more than one batch of pancakes in a day?"

Izzy's eyes flashed for a second, twinkling before being gone in a flash, as if nothing had happened. She sent a bright smile to her mother who started about how smart her lovely daughter was, putting away the ingredients.

As Izzy sat at the table, she noticed the letter, immediately picking it up to examine. One look at the seal on the back told her that it wasn't from her school.

"Hey mum, what's this?" Her voice was back to the childish innocence that colored all 11 year-olds voices.

"Oh, I figured it was from your school, they sure chose some funny paper this year, yeah?"

"Well can you open it? The wax on the back is too hard for me to get off."

Mrs. Wilson came over and picked up the letter, easily splitting it open and pulling out the letter. Upon reading the top letter, her face paled.

"Mum? What is it?" Izzy asked, her fork falling to her plate with a clatter.

"You - Nothing, honey. No matter what, don't open the door."

Mrs. Wilson abruptly turned around, starting on washing the dishes, and placing the letter next to her on the counter.

"No, mum, tell me what it is. What do they want me to bring to school this year? It can't be that bad, you're on the Committee Board!" Izzy looked intently at her mother, starting to fidget in her seat to get at the letter, but containing her nervous curiosity.

"I told you, it's nothing." Her mother's voice was sharp and quick, a voice Izzy hadn't head used on her before.

Izzy's eyes narrowed and she worked her jaw. For one so small she looked almost like an adult. Almost.

"Mummy, that letter is _mine_."

Mrs. Wilson paled further. "It was a mistake, sent it to the wrong person."

At this Izzy stood up. She walked over to where her mother was washing the dishes, and as she got closer, the letter flew up into the air and floated towards her. She caught it in midair, used to the little things that would happen whenever she was feeling particularly emotional: which happened much more than her parents would ever admit.

"What did we say about doing that in the house?" Mrs. Wilson questioned quietly.

"I wanted my letter, and you wouldn't give it to me," Izzy simply stated. She pulled out the pieces of paper (what was this stuff even made of?) and quickly read it.

Dear Ms. Wilson,

We are writing you to inform you that at 12:00 P. M. sharp you will receive a knock on your door. It is pertinent that you accept the meeting so that you may be enrolled into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Everything will be explained to you at that time.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Izzy stared in awe at the piece of paper in her fingers (were they really shaking?) With her head spinning she looked at the next piece of paper (" _Parchment_ ," something in her subconscious told her). This one read more like what would go out to everyone, the text more formal.

 **HOGWARTS SCHOOL** _ **of**_ **WITCHCRAFT** _ **and**_ **WIZARDRY**

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

 _Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Dear Ms. Wilson,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

"But today's the first of August." Izzy's eyes fell to the letter, but then looked at the first again and sighed. Maybe that's why they had to send someone there, to tell her that they forgot to send hers out, and she was too late, there wasn't a spot for her anymore. She immediately put the thought from her head. Of course she already knew she was a witch; there was no other explanation for everything that she was able to do. But now, she won't be able to train. She had begged her parents to try and find her a school. And when they refused...well, she couldn't have them remembering that.

Izzy set her jaw and looked at the clock. It was already 11:30; she had thirty minutes before some unknown people came to her door and explained just _what_ had been going on her entire life.


	2. Hogwarts, A Mystery

In 15 minutes Isytha had finished the rest of her pancakes and had helped her mother load the dishwasher. She was then working towards calming her mum down, promising everything would be okay and that maybe someone was just playing a prank on them. Although she knew it wasn't a prank, she deep down felt a pit in her stomach where she thought it might be. What if the people came in, told her to display her magic, and when she did, they would be shocked because magic _can't_ be real.

But it was, she reminded herself, the letters seemed genuine. As the clock ticked closer to 12 Izzy made her way to the door. Looking up at the clock every so often to check that it hadn't passed the set time yet. And just as the second hand ticked onto the 12, there was a sharp knock on the door. Izzy's heart was pounding so hard she thought that maybe she had imagined the knock, since she couldn't possibly hear over the racing blood in her ears. Then there was another sharp knock and she moved to open the door, peeking out at the strangers on her doorstep.

They were two men, in long billowing clothes. The older one, who had all white hair and looked older even than her grandfather, was wearing a bright fuchsia coloured material with lime green triangles all over them. The other one, who was much younger and standing slightly behind him with a sneer on his face, whether because he didn't want to be there or because Izzy hadn't invited them in yet, was wearing all black, his hair lying on either side of his face in a greasy sheet.

Izzy could immediately tell that the black-clad man was loyal to this old geezer, though he was extremely annoyed by it, he was loyal. His eyes fell on the small form of the girl and sneered even more, but the old man smiled kindly at her, his eyes twinkling.

She didn't like him.

She could see he was planning something, and that he was going to do anything to get it. Izzy didn't like people like that, they had to be crushed before they can get any plans done. However, she thought, at his age it would be too late to crush him, he would have to be charmed.

"Well you insufferable-" the young man was about to say when the Crazy Merlin put his hand up to stop his words. Oof, emotional that one.

"Now, Severus, be patient, this is a lot for one to take in," if it were possible, Izzy thought she saw this man's eyes twinkle even more.

"Are you Miss Isytha-Edette?"

He looked down at her and had his kindly smile on his face. But she noticed it never truly reached his eyes.

"It's Izzy."

"My apologies Miss Izzy. Do you mind if we came in? We don't exactly want people to overhear our conversations, do we?" His tone was lighthearted but questioning, peering over his half-moon spectacles at her.

Izzy nodded, moving over and allowing the two men pass through, the younger first. Izzy had half a mind to trip him as he crossed the threshold, but thought better of it. He could possibly be useful in the future. So she contained herself, and also refrained from hovering her mother's favorite vase over the man.

Izzy then led them to the family room, where her mother was waiting, pale and a slight sheen on her forehead. When she saw the men she stood, and after introductions went to get a kettle for tea and four cups.

The black-clad man, who Izzy just found out was called "Professor Snape" (if he was a teacher, then maybe Izzy really was a witch. No normal person would employ someone so rude), sat on one of the chairs and his black eyes bore into her. She immediately felt something different, like something was going through her mind. She had only felt that a few times in her life, and she bit it in the butt, shoving the presence from her mind. The professor blinked, as if he were surprised and then returned his face to the slight sneer that had held it before.

Izzy really didn't like when people tried to look at her thoughts. She would have to trust this man though, and this new old man ("Professor Dumbledore"). At least enough to seem like she liked them, until they would be loyal to her. Everyone is eventually loyal. When they realize they have no other choice. As Mrs. Wilson walked back in she snapped out of her reverie of the past few years at school.

"Well, I assume you got our letters, Mrs. and Miss Wilson," that stupid twinkle was back in those blue eyes. Damn.

"Yes, we did receive the letters," Mrs. Wilson responded with a try at being professional, but her hands shook just a little.

"Does this mean I'm really a witch?" Izzy burst out, not being able to contain herself any longer. Despite not liking her current company, she couldn't help but feel excited.

Dumbledore chuckled, "Yes, yes you are a witch. But let us explain something more."

After Dumbledore and Snape explained about what wizards and witches were and what muggles were and about the whole world (she had to say, Professor Snape's snark was growing on her) they started to tell about Hogwarts.

"So, Hogwarts, is then the school where witches and wizards go to learn how to use their powers," Dumbledore said. "And I think I will let Professor Snape fully take over from here."

Snape glared at the old man for a second before turning back to Izzy and her mum, "Hogwarts is like one of your Muggle Boarding schools. You live, sleep, and eat there during the school months, and during the summer and winter holiday's will return home. There are four houses, Slytherin," here Snape looked almost proud, "Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor."

Snape's face had turned up into more of a sneer as he nearly spat the last one out of his mouth. Seriously, Izzy thought, how is this man a teacher?

"How does she know which house she'll be in?" Mrs. Wilson spoke up for the first time since they had started talking.

"That will be decided when she gets there. However, she still needs to get her school things. She cannot show up with muggle contraptions."

"Well, where do I even get this stuff?" Izzy had picked up the third letter with her supply list.

"You will need to go to Diagon Alley. In London," Snape replied, clipping his words as if that should have been the obvious answers.

"I've never been to London. Oh mum, can we go right now?" Izzy was practically buzzing in her seat now with excitement.

Mrs. Wilson had a ghost of a smile pass her lips and her eyes cleared for a second, before taking a look at the list.

"Well, Diagon Alley isn't the easiest place to get to when you're a muggle, so we will have to escort you the first time," Dumbledore sent a warning look at Snape as if to say "if you don't behave yourself you won't get to come on these anymore." Although with the way he had been acting, this little excursion _is_ his punishment.

"Mum. Mummy, please, please can we go right now?" At this point Izzy was bouncing up and down next to her mother.

"I suppose. Go brush your teeth and shoes."

After Izzy left the room she turned to the two men. "You'll take care of her won't you," she looked at them both in turn, tears starting to pool in her eyes, "She's my only child."

Upon receiving a promise from both men, she thanked them, and left to get her own shoes on. When she returned they were standing next to the fireplace, discussing something quietly.

"Now, we've temporarily hooked your fireplace up the Floo network, but after today, you'll have to get to London the muggle way. We'll go to the Leaky Cauldron and from there we will show you how to get to it from muggle London, and how to get to Diagon Alley from there," Dumbledore stated, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

"W-what's a 'flew', sir?" Izzy asked, not liking that she thought she had just seen a fact in the embers of the fireplace.

"A Floo is," he paused to think, "It's a way to get around, through the fireplace, with a special powder that you throw in to get you to that place."

Mrs. Wilson's eyes widened. "We have to step into a fire?"

"I assure you, Mrs. Wilson, it is quite safe."

After a bit of convincing, she was finally in the Floo, and popped out in a dingy little pub, Professor Snape catching her before she could fall.

Next came Izzy, and finally Dumbledore. After they were shown how to get into the Leaky Cauldron from the outside, they went out back, and showed Izzy which bricks to tap.

"You'll have to go to Gringotts first before you get a wand, but make sure you do, otherwise you might not be able to get back in to get it later."

After opening the gateway for them, they left, Snape vaguely gesturing to where Gringotts was ("It's the wizards bank, you have to open an account.").

Making an account wasn't hard, Mrs. Wilson knew it wouldn't be, because it wasn't hard when she walked into the muggle bank to open a new account. But when they said that Izzy already had one, they were surprised, and followed the midget-man (goblins, Dumbledore had said) to the vault that had tons of gold in it. They had no idea how much any of it was worth, or how much a wand would be, but Mrs. Wilson grabbed a couple handfuls of the gold coins and a few of the copper and silver ones too, putting them into her purse.

After getting back out, both women being slightly dazed by the light and the bumpy ride back to the surface, they made their way down the street, first coming to a pet shop.

"Mum, they have owls! I'm allowed an owl at school, can I get one?" Izzy asked, pulling a bit on Mrs. Wilson's shirt.

"Maybe, why don't we get your wand first, pets are a lot to take care of," Mrs. Wilson chewed her lip, before spotting a little shop that had a sign on top of it: Ollivanders.

Mrs. Wilson's eyes cleared for a second with recognition before they became cloudy and troubled. She took Izzy's hand and stepped into the shop, somehow being more dinky and cluttered than the pub they had arrived in was.

An old gentleman came from the back and said, "Ah, you're looking for a wand, are you not? I am Mr. Ollivander, and you are?" He said, finally looking up at Izzy.

"Izzy Wilson," she responded.

The man's eyes sparked and he stood a little taller, a smile playing across his face.

"Good, good, can you step forward, I just need to take a few measurements."

Izzy nodded, letting her mother's hand go and taking a few steps towards the counter. Her palms had been sweating a bit since they stepped into the shop, but she couldn't place what made her so nervous. Mr. Ollivander dropped a tape measure next to her feet and after a second sprang up and started measuring Izzy (even her tongue!) and when it was finished fell back to the floor.

"Interesting, interesting," Ollivander looked over at Mrs. Wilson who was still standing back by the door. "Would you mind stepping out? This is rather a private experience."

Mrs. Wilson merely nodded, looking down at the list. As soon as she was out of sight, Ollivander locked the door, peeping out to the street to be sure no one was snooping.

"We don't need people walking in for this."

And with that he disappeared behind the counter into the thick shelves of boxes.


	3. It's the Wand That Makes the Witch

Izzy's heart was racing, what was going on? Izzy waited for what felt like an hour. She took a look at the clock and as the clock ticked five minutes, Mr. Ollivander appeared from the back.

"I have been waiting for you, although I wait for everyone. But the wand chooses the wizard, and I know there was a reason for me to want to make these wands."

He pulled one of the boxes open, dust puffing up from the now open container, and held it out for her to pick up the wand.

She easily gripped the handle, holding it steady in her hand. It had a buzz to it that hummed uncomfortably against the her palm. The wand seemed to start to glow and grow hot and just before it seemed ready to burst Mr. Ollivander ripped it out of her hand and stowed it safely back into its box where it sat as if it had not just tried to explode in an 11 year-old's hand.

"Hmmm," Mr. Ollivander hummed. He had brought five boxes with him, all seemingly much older than the ones on the shelves directly behind him. "I figured I no longer had the need to continue making them because I had made the perfect one."

Next Mr. Ollivander picked up the next box which seemed to have been opened more recently than the others. Out of that box can a light coloured wood with a swirled handle, much more ornate than the previous wand.

Tentatively Izzy's hand reached for it, but it was barely in her hand before the wand was snatched back and put into its box. As was the case for the next two wands.

"Peculiar, Ms. Wilson. Quite peculiar."

The last box was opened, and Mr. Ollivander struggled to get it open. The sheer amount of dust that rose into the air was proof that it had been sitting undisturbed for the decades since he had made it. When Izzy laid eyes on it she couldn't take them off. The wood of the main part was stained dark, with the light part creating a design unlike she had seen on the others. It had been crafted with a delicate hand, and in some senses was much more haphazard than the others. But when Izzy picked it up, it warmed comfortably in her hand, and seemed to hum with the pulse of her heart. On instinct she sent a little flick with it, and from the tip sprout a silvery mist that showered over Mr. Ollivanders counter.

Mr. Ollivander smiled wide, "I really never thought that wand would choose someone, but alas, the dragon and the unicorn could agree on something."

Izzy finally looked up from the wand to look at Mr. Ollivander, "Excuse me, sir, but what do you mean by that?"

Mr. Ollivander sighed, glancing out the window before answering, "These wands, they are a collection of some experimental wands that one day I decided to make. Usually a wand is made of one wood and one core, its flexibility and length dependent on how I feel the materials will react together. But these," at this he gestured down at the wand in Izzy's hand, "These I made with two cores. Or rather, with a core and a half."

Mr. Ollivander handed the empty box to Izzy, collecting the others and waved his own wand at them to go be put back into the correct space.

"It was a dangerous time. Wand makers were disappearing. People wanted more powerful wands to protect themselves. In the midst of trying to make a wand, I broke the core of the wand I was trying to make. Of course, I had to throw the wood away, it was only made for that one core. But the core, at that time unicorn hair was hard to come by. I couldn't just throw away the hair. Though there is no way to make a functional wand with only half a core. Then the thought struck me, what if I were to combine the core with that of another? Oh my first few attempts destroyed themselves right away. But I took this half of the hair, and combined it with a dragon heartstring. My intention was to cut the heartstring down to make it equal parts unicorn and dragon, as I had been doing with the others. But it joined as soon as I had started the incantation to join them, and to cut one down would put too much raw energy into the wand, so I left it the way it was. Encased it in a maple wood, 10 ¾" and supple flexibility."

Mr. Ollivander was about to turn and walk back out, flicking his wand at the door where it unlocked with a soft click. "Mr. Ollivander?"

He turned slightly with a pause, "What did you do with the other half? Of the hair I mean."

Mr. Ollivander merely smiled and walked into the back of the shop.

Outside of the bookstore before Izzy left, she saw a giant man, with a very young boy with messy black hair and glasses standing beside him, carrying a wand that made hers hum in the pocket she had stuffed it in.


End file.
